Parading it Around
by elfx9
Summary: Ste returns to Brendan after a drunken night out. Just a bit of fun and sex, really.


**Just a bit of nothing really – a bit of light-hearted fun and a good dose of sex… Not much of a plot but just wrote it because I felt like it. **

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Brendan knows they're drunk as soon as he answers the phone. Actually, he knew beforehand, having answered twenty minutes earlier only to hear Steven and Cheryl screaming the lyrics to a song at the top of their lungs and nearly blowing his ear off.

"_OOOOOH! OOOOOH! TROUBLE! TROUBLE! TROUBLE! OOOOOH! OHHHH!_"

"Yeah… very nice." Brendan had winced, holding the phone away from his ear. "When're you comin' home?!"

He'd been speaking to a dead line by then. Either he'd been hung up on or, more likely, a phone had been dropped into an overflowing beer-glass.

Now when he answers the phone he can just hear Steven's stroppy drunken slurs;

"_Cheryl, would ya stop it - I'm tryin' to call my fiancé if you don't mind_!"

"I'm here, Steven."

"_Put your…bloody tits away; there's cars round 'ere!"_

"STEVEN!"

"_Oh, HIYA BREN!" _He bellows with overbearing enthusiasm, _"The club's shut now; can ya come pick us up?!"_

"I'll be right there."

He scoops his keys off the side and keeps the phone to his ear just long enough to hear Steven natter:

"_He said he's comin' now – shall we grab a kebab or somethin'?" _

XOXOXOXOXOX

They're armed with kebabs when Brendan pulls up beside them fifteen minutes later.

And yes, drunk they are indeed.

Steven is sat in a gutter and he's laughing at seemingly nothing, and – probably unbeknownst to him – he's nicked a shot-glass from the club which hangs limply from his left hand. Cheryl is squat behind a tree, pissing. Perhaps she thinks she's camouflaged but she's nothing of the sort.

"He's here!" Steven shouts the obvious as Brendan strides to within two metres of them.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes we did!" Ste chimes, "Did you 'ave fun sittin' at home bein' boring?"

"Yes I did." Brendan says plainly, "Thank you."

He puts a hand out for Steven and heaves him to his feet. Or not. Steven stumbles and throws his entire weight on Brendan, letting out a graceless honk of laughter in the process and demanding, "Carry meh!"

"No." Brendan says dryly.

"Ey, I missed you, you know!"

He pouts his lips and pushes against Brendan for a wet sloppy kiss, which Brendan returns indulgently.

"We're gonna have drinks back home though – that's alright, innit? Chez's invited Nate round."

"I was gonna take you to bed." Brendan says quietly in Steven's ear, "What d'ye think I stayed up for?"

"Well you can after drinkin' games!" Steven replies, his face stretching into an even bigger grin.

He looks sexy when he's drunk. Once Brendan can look past the slur and clumsiness, the flush on Steven's cheeks and lack of inhibition in him is a real turn on. He's an exhibitionist when wasted. Seems to know no limits, and that can stretch from grabbing and swinging Brendan's hand in public, to attempting a blowjob under the table in a restaurant.

He's also a fucking lunatic, and right now he's clasping onto the steering wheel to announce, "I'll drive!"

"No ye won't." Brendan says, "Shift."

"Brendan, we need to pick up some drinks on the way!" Cheryl says, slumping ungracefully into the back of the car.

"Ey, your Cheryl's a right ol' mare when she's drunk, you know; she was practically molestin' all them bar-men!"

"Excuse me, Ste, I am a married woman!"

"Yeah, you didn't tell _them_ that, did ya?!" Ste laughs, then clarifies drunkenly to Brendan; "She didn't tell _them_ that."

Before Brendan can even respond Ste has turned the radio up full blast, and they're forced to travel the rest of the journey to Girls Aloud's screechy tones.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Within the next half hour, their brand new living room is cluttered with beer cans and wine bottles and homemade cocktails, scattered crumbs and spillages. Nate attempts polite conversation with Brendan; asking questions about the move and his wedding preparations… but any kind of discussion is hastily drowned out by Cheryl's screeching laughter or Steven's toneless singing.

The only time things really quieten is when Steven stumbles off to, "go for a lash" and Cheryl takes on the mentality of a twelve-year-old school-girl and cuddles giddily into Nate's arm.

"Mmmm, I'm a state, aren't I babe?" She purrs.

"You're holding up decidedly better than our wedding night." Nate smiles. "Speaking of which… when's the stag-do, Brendan?"

Brendan snorts back a laugh, "I'm not the stag-do type of guy."

"I'm not talking strippers and clubs – just a few drinks to celebrate your last days as a free man!"

"That's okay."

"Ste'll be having one – we'll go to that." Cheryl mumbles sleepily. "Much more fun."

This is news to Brendan.

"Who says he's having one?!"

"Course he's having one – we're gonna go all out for…"

Her voice is drowned out by a pitiful moaning from the bathroom.

"Brenduuuuuun! I need your heeeelp!"

"Jesus Mary and Joseph." Brendan mutters.

He strides to the bathroom with a weirdly-gleeful Cheryl hot on his heels, evidently hungry for some drunk-related drama.

"What?" Brendan sighs.

"My zip's stuck!" Ste moans, tugging at the zipper of his fly, which is wedged in with the material. He looks a sorry sight, huffing and puffing as he tries to release himself.

"God help us." Brendan suppresses a smirk of amusement as he slides over to Steven and bashes his clumsy hands away.

"No, you'll trap meh willy in it!" Ste cries out in panic, and tries to turn himself away from Brendan's hands.

"Steven…!" Brendan snaps, "C'mere will ye?!"

He spins Ste back around, pushes an arm against his belly to trap him to the wall and keep him still while he tries to tug the zipper down with his left hand.

"Don't do owt dodgy cos Cheryl's lookin'." Ste warns.

Brendan tuts; as if he would.

"Christ, how much have you 'ad to drink?"

"I had to 'ave whisky, didn't I?" Ste explains, "Cos I missed ya. So every time I 'ad a beer, I 'ad a whisky too… so that you was with us in spirit."

Brendan can only _just_ make out the end of that sentence, it's so slurred.

He smirks – turns from the zip to Steven and orders, "Say that again."

"So I was there in spirit." Ste says, frowning. And then laughs, "Shuddup!"

His head drops onto Brendan's shoulder, a mixture of drunken giggles and an exasperated moan escaping him.

"I really need a piss!"

"Kay, hold on. Stand _still, _will ye?!" Brendan says. He sticks his whisky glass in his mouth to give himself more grip, takes hold of the zip and pulls fiercely – too fast for Steven to even flinch or protest.

"There." He says coolly. "Yer cock still in tact?"

"I dunno, hope so." Steven mutters absent-mindedly. He's already tugging it out, heading to the toilet, no mind for Cheryl standing snorting with laughter in the doorway.

"Okay." Brendan mutters, and pushes Cheryl away in an instant. It's unreasonable and probably a bit sick of him, but he doesn't want anyone looking at his boy – not even her.

Which is why, when Steven returns to the living room with his fly still hanging open, boxers poking out and flaunted for both Cheryl and Nate to see, Brendan jumps up immediately.

"The fuck are ye doin'?" He snaps, pushing Steven into the bedroom and away from their eyes.

"I'm comin' to sit with you guys…" Ste says, confused.

"Don't come out there with yer cock hangin' out!" Brendan cries, incredulous, once they're closed behind the bedroom door.

"I'm not doin' the fly up, I don't wanna get trapped again!"

"Then put somethin' else on."

Brendan tosses some jogging bottoms in Ste's general direction. But he's too slow to catch them and blinks stupidly as the garment flops into his face.

"I'm not gonna sit with ya if you're gonna be all moody, just so you know!" Ste says crossly, and starts to climb out of his jeans.

Inelegant is not the half of it.

Brendan watches, half amused and half entranced, as Steven's legs flop clumsily into the air and his bum wriggles gracelessly in an attempt to get out of the trousers. He hasn't even got his shoes off yet and only notices as the jeans bunch up at his ankles, leaving him in the most disorientated of states… positioned facing Brendan, legs flopping upwards in a way that's frankly obscene.

"You look ridiculous." Brendan says bluntly.

But he has half a mind to tug those boxers off him too… take advantage of his state and make a real mess out of him.

Instead, he pulls Steven's shoes off for him, and pulls away the jeans, setting his legs free.

"Idiot." He mutters fondly.

Ste laughs gracelessly.

"I think I 'ad too much to drink, you know." He observes.

"Ye think?"

"Yeah. I won't have too much more."

He shuffles much more easily into his jogging bottoms. Looks immediately a lot more at-home and comfortable in them. Easier to get on, easier to get off. If Brendan can get a few glasses of water down him, then tonight should be fun.

"Is that better?" Ste asks Brendan knowingly.

"Yes. Thank you."

"What, was ya scared that Nate would get turned on by my stripy boxers, eh?!"

He falls against Brendan, wraps his arms around him warmly.

"He'd be crazy not to." Brendan mutters quietly. Such open spiels of affection should always be kept at a low volume. Wouldn't want anybody overhearing. Like Cheryl, currently knocking on the bedroom door.

"Hey! I hope you two realise the night's not over yet!"

XOXOXOXOXOXO

How Brendan got dragged into a game of motherfucking 'I have never', he'll never know. He's obviously had a few too many whiskies himself, or he'd have never let these frankly _shameless _confessionals be uttered in his living room.

He's already heard quite enough about Cheryl's exploits for one night, and his nerves are on edge trying to maintain the last of his and Steven's dignity.

"I 'ave never… pissed meself in a cinema!" Steven says.

To which Cheryl drinks. Not an ounce of embarrassment on her.

"Chez!" Brendan moans, "Seriously?!"

"It was a funny film!" Cheryl cries, "You'd like it Bren – it's called _Bridesmaids, _I'll get it for you."

"No thank you."

"Oh, I bet you'd love it!"

"I'm not watchin' it."

"Yeah, he _says_ that!" Steven grins, "But he sneaks outta bed at night when he's doin' stuff he thinks is embarrassin'! I caught 'im watchin' the end of 'Despicable Me' once, cos our Leah didn't finish it and he was gutted."

"I was windin' it back!" Brendan protests, for the fifteenth-thousandth time.

"It's a DVD, not a VHS – you don't wind 'em back!"

"Yeah but I didn't know that, did I?!"

Ste snorts, "Sure!" and then kisses Brendan affectionately on the cheek.

Even these days, Brendan's not _completely _comfortable with such open intimate displays. But tonight with Cheryl's intoxicated state, and Nate well on the way, he's safe to plant a kiss on Steven right back.

The act is enough for Steven's eyes to turn clouded and hungry-looking. He's piercing into Brendan's own with a look that's just _dying_ to be fucked. His eyes trail down to Brendan's lips and then back up again… all the early signals that come before under-the-table blowjobs. Brendan tears his eyes away… can't be getting inappropriate with Cheryl and Nate around…

"Right. My turn." Cheryl announces, "I have never… had sex in a car."

To which Steven drinks, nudges Brendan – hard – and shouts, "_YOU'VE _GOTTA DRINK TOO!"

Queue a squeal of delight from Cheryl that verges on massively inappropriate.

"You dirty bastards!" She cries, "Not the car _I _was just sat in I hope!"

"Okay, we should stop playing this now." Brendan says, feeling his stomach curl in another overload of embarrassment.

"Aww, s'alright!" Ste slurs, "Sometimes he jus' can't keep 'is hands off me, can ya?"

And his hand is sneaking up Brendan's tshirt… and his drunken smile is pressed against Brendan's neck and then turns into sloppy and insistent kisses there. Like any second he'll be sucking his god-damn skin off.

"Steven, stop it." Brendan says, pulling away.

Such shameless exhibitions are _not _his thing – especially in front of tonights audience.

And he's in serious danger of revealing a hard-on to everybody.

Though despite everything… including the excruciating reveals that he's sure to regret come morning, he's actually having a really good time. He feels relaxed here, in the company of those he loves… and Nate, who's actually alright it would seem.

He feels kind of high on the good feeling, feels himself wrapping an arm around Steven's shoulders and pulling him across the sofa to hold more closely.

Steven grins up at him, goofy and open and adoring.

Brendan takes advantage of this private moment to whisper; "So what's this I hear about a stag party?"

"Oh I dunno – Chez wants me to have one." Ste answers, "S'a bit weird though, innit? I don't have anyone to invite."

"I'm gonna have my own private party; just me and the stripper – that's _you _by the way."

Steven chuckles lowly – sexily.

"You can make it yours as well?" Brendan suggests.

"Mm." Steven mutters. He doesn't sound sure though. There's something in him that Brendan doesn't possess (and perhaps it's simply his ten years less in age) that makes him itch for a proper party.

"I don't like ye goin' out without me." Brendan whispers honestly.

"Why?"

"I get jealous."

Steven grins. Most people probably _wouldn't_ following such a statement, but Steven's always responded positively to any kind of sincerity, and this bluntness – however concerning - is no exception.

"You don't have to, you know." He says, "Cheryl got offered loads of drinks but I didn't get offered any!"

"Okay. You don't have to sound so pissed off about that."

"Well I _was_ pissed off cos I'm well fit, aren't I?!"

"Steven." Brendan says firmly, and he's completely serious when he warns, "I don't want _any_ blokes thinkin' they can buy ye drinks. Ever. I didn't put that ring on your finger for sharin'."

Steven lets out a pout that is practically _edible_, and Brendan realises he's gonna need their guests to _leave - _and soon.

"You're supposed to say 'Yes Steven, you _are _fit." Ste mutters sulkily.

"Yes Steven, you are."

"Fit."

"Very fuckable." Brendan whispers lowly in his ear.

Ste lets out a low shiver that Brendan feels vibrate against him.

"And that's exactly what I'm worried about." Brendan adds.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters."

It's ridiculous, but Steven has no fucking idea how desirable he is. When he discusses his attractiveness he does so with a sarcasm that physically _hurts _Brendan. And his lack of self-awareness makes him careless enough to flaunt himself to everyone and anyone, thinking nothing of it, and that's half the problem.

Brendan's sure that when Steven was out tonight he'd have been dancing ridiculously, and singing badly, and grinning stupidly… and he'd have had every bloke who swung that way with their eyeballs popping out at the sight of it. The only thing warning off those drinks would have been the ring on his left finger, but even that's not enough and from now on Brendan's attending every one of these stupid clubbing nights _with _him. He stayed away tonight, watching the clock the entire time, and now he's ticked that box and won't ever have to suffer it again.

"I feel a bit sick you know." Ste says, "If I go be sick will you still wanna have sex?"

"I love it when you talk dirty to me." Brendan responds, deadpan.

"I know but it's better to puke up now then right in the middle, innit?"

Such a charmer.

Brendan can hardly believe he's marrying this gross fucker.

Nevertheless he feels himself nodding his head in silent agreement that Steven can puke up tonights and every other kebab, and Brendan will _still _want him as much as he ever does.

And he finds himself unable to look away as Steven rises from the sofa and makes his way to the bathroom – Brendan's eyes fixated to his arse (fucking beautiful in jogging bottoms) until he's completely out of sight.

"Right!" Nate draws an exaggerated yawn, "I think we should call it a night, Cheryl."

Christ – was Brendan really being that obvious?

"Okay babe let me just get my… where did I leave my…"

Cheryl stands and stumbles… spilling her second tub of pringles this evening. Brendan watches in disdain as the crumbs fly all over the brand new carpet.

"You're not invited next time." He says.

But she barely notices, and then her arms are flung around Brendan's neck and her boozy breath is in her ear as she whispers, "He misses you so much when you're not with him, you know."

Brendan's torn between maintaining his image of nonchalance and wanting to press for more nights gossip.

He chooses the latter… deciding again that Cheryl is too drunk to remember anyway.

"Yeah? In what way?"

"Well," Cheryl smiles, "lets just say he really cramped my style when he started showing the fit barman pictures of _you _on his phone."

Brendan feels that weird sense of warmth he always gets when confronted with Steven's frankly ridiculous admiration for him.

"_Oooh, this is my fiancé_!" Cheryl mocks Ste, "_This is him doing press-ups. This is him pretending to cook, but he's not. This is him sleeping!_"

"Okay Chez, I get it."

"_He bought me this phone as well – it's nice innit?" _Chez cackles in amusement.

"Yeah yeah! Get outta my flat."

Brendan steers a hysterical Cheryl towards the door where Nate waits patiently with her handbag and jacket. He shakes Brendan's hand firmly as a well-mannered goodbye, and it looks like the excruciation of the night is finally over before Cheryl turns back and says…

"Oh – nice _Spiderman _briefs, by the way!"

And the last of Brendan's dignity is gone.

Courtesy of Steven fucking Hay who clearly doesn't know the limits of privacy.

How many people had he shown that picture to? How many people had seen the snap of drunk Brendan on a hotel bed on their one-year anniversary, stripped down to his briefs, holding a bottle of champagne and brandishing the biggest, most exposing GRIN that completely besmirches the image he tries to have for himself?!

"STEVEN!" He shouts, barging into the bathroom.

And the night gets more unfortunate still.

Steven has his cheek against the toilet seat… legs sprawled in awkward positions across the bathroom floor… and he's fast asleep.

Literally dead to the mother-fucking world.

But as angry as Brendan wants to be, he can't help but feel that thing again… that thing in his belly that helps Steven ruin his reputation, because it makes him so helpless to the lad.

Adoration.

It's that adoration that made him sweat and stammer out an awkward proposal… that adoration that made him pose for kissing photographs under Steven's insistence… that adoration that makes him put Steven to bed now, tossing the duvet cover over him with more care than he'd like to admit. He brings a glass and a jug of water to Steven's side and pulls off his socks and tshirt as delicately as possible so as not to wake him.

And then he reaches over and takes Steven's phone, and hastily deletes the incriminating _Spiderman _photograph. It's mixed in with countless other photos from their anniversary in Dublin… most of which are decidedly _not _appropriateto discuss with a random barman.

"Fuck sake." Brendan whispers, looking at the point-of-view picture of Steven's own bare legs – foot pushed into Brendan's sleeping cheek. "Fucking shameless." He mutters.

"Huh?" Steven sniffs back in sleep.

Brendan can't help himself. He's lost sympathy for the drunken bastard. "I said you're fuckin' shameless."

"Why?" Steven's eyes peel open tiredly.

Brendan turns to him. But upon sight of him he loses the will to talk and pushes his tongue into Steven's mouth instead.

That wakes him up sure enough.

Brendan's relentless with him, overpowering him with his tongue – enforcing some order and compliance; no more pandering or indulging his drunken giddiness.

Steven breathes heavily into the kiss, shudders underneath the dominance and disorientation of being woken in such a way.

"Mm." Brendan sighs when he eventually pulls away, "Tastes like whisky."

Steven smiles breathlessly… his eyes following Brendan intently… watching for his next move.

That's silenced him.

Good.

"You've been very bad." Brendan murmurs, hot, intense, private… his mouth trailing from Steven's ear, down to his neck.

"Why?"

"Leavin' me. Gettin' wasted. Fallin' asleep."

"Sorry…" Steven mutters. But his voice is croaked in his fascination… like he's too fixated on trying to follow Brendan's movements to really speak properly.

His eyes trail after Brendan, dazed with drink and horniness. He's already hard underneath his joggers. Brendan grazes his hand over and takes hold of his cock through the material, provoking a small hushed gasp from his lover.

"You will be." He growls.

He lifts Steven's phone and holds it just above his eye-line… watches his eyes readjust and focus… fix on his own incriminating pictures.

"You take pictures of me while I sleep, Steven?" He asks provocatively… all the while moving his hand around over Ste's balls, toying lightly with his entrance.

Steven licks his lips, distracted, aroused, trying to focus.

"Huh?" He mutters

"You think I want pictures like this paraded around, do ye?"

He pushes a finger inside Steven – feels him jump in surprise and watches his pupils dilate and… SNAP. Brendan takes a picture of him. A taste of his own medicine.

He turns it round for Steven to see whilst he slowly glides his finger in and out of his hole.

Look at yourself. Taste yourself. Touch yourself. Finger yourself. He loves making Steven confront his own desirability; wants nothing more than to capture every groan and hushed sigh and strained gasp and frantic grasp and the way he fucks himself against Brendan's cock and kisses him sloppily and comes hard.

He wants it all on camera, every bit of it. Wants Steven to see what he looks like when he comes. Wants him to understand why it's so hard for Brendan to share him, with anyone in any way.

He pushes a second finger inside, holds the phone up again…

"What're ya doin'?" Steven asks breathlessly.

He's already rocking himself onto Brendan's fingers – already breathing heavily with the sensation, biting his lip down to try and stay focussed on Brendan's ulterior motive.

"S'only fair." Brendan says lightly, and then silences any further questions with a second round of his tongue in Steven's mouth. Steven takes it gratefully, does nothing to tame the string of saliva when they part… the way it crudely snaps and hangs against his lips and round his mouth.

He's distracted by this point by Brendan's third finger. He's losing it… moaning already… small heated whispers divided by trembled groans of pleasure as he thrusts himself back and forth on the digits. Brendan feels all of his insides; the hot sticky tight heat… his fingers being pushed deeper and deeper by Steven's own volition.

Fuck, he looks incredible.

And Brendan snaps another picture, inches from his wet open lips.

Steven's eyes open at the noise and he sounds embarrassed when he pleads, "Brendan, stop it."

But he's had his own way enough tonight and Brendan's not listening.

He removes his fingers quickly, hears Steven's light gasp of surprise and loss. He whips Steven's joggers down… too fast for his drunken playmate to even comprehend and discards them at the foot of the bed so the lad is butt-naked.

He's all golden skin and hair-filled legs and the rapid rise and fall of his chest in heavy breathing. The anticipation looks incredible on him; flushes his skin with a rosy red whilst his legs hang open in subconscious invitation.

Brendan drops the phone for a moment in order to run his hands up those irresistible thighs – lay kiss there, just above Steven's knee.

"You got a lotta makin' up to do, kid." he breathes. His own voice is faltering now. His fingers shake slightly as he releases the button of his own jeans and drags down the zip, releases his cock.

Steven comes forward for it willingly, mouth open, eyes engrossed and full of intent.

But Brendan holds him still, hands firmly either side of his head, and takes control. He runs his cock across Steven's lips, adding pre-cum to the saliva that already dampens him. And then he pushes inside Steven's mouth, all the way like he knows only Steven is able to take like a pro. Even drunk as he is, he takes Brendan's cock expertly; deep-throats, sucks in time with Brendan's keen increasing thrusts.

So immersed Steven is in his pleasuring that he doesn't even notice when Brendan takes another picture; capturing the crude portrait of his dick in Steven's throat. But he can't take any more after that. He's beginning to lose it himself… Steven's lips pulling him to the edge. Steven's alcohol-induced state makes him even more sloppy than usual; whenever Brendan's cock slips from his mouth, it smears the come-and-saliva mix across Steven's cheek until the lads a physical depiction of their arousal.

"Fuck, Steven." Brendan groans intensely, "You're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?"

He's on the edge. He pulls out of Steven's mouth in one hurried, decisive motion and lifts his bare legs into the air.

Steven is disorientated by his sudden change of position and it causes him to laugh in that mindless, loud goofy way.

But he's soon shut up by Brendan's cock sliding into him; the condom applied in record time and prioritised over the removal of Brendan's clothes, which remain on.

Both of them hiss as Brendan slips inside… Steven engulfing him, his hole clenching around him tightly but taking him all in… balls deep… till both of them are immersed in a duet of heated moans and gasps and "Oh my God…"

And Brendan pounds him ruthlessly, and Steven's cries of pleasure ring in his ears like a fucking hymn… like everything he's ever known and will ever know for the rest of his life. The lad's moans judder in tone… in time with Brendan's thrusts… rhythmic with his body bouncing against between Brendan's cock and the bed.

They're both so close, and Brendan takes hold of Steven and jerks him, and their movements become messy and frantic and clumsy as they pound against each other for release… hands grasping, lips smearing substances between one another. Steven's hand flies out and he knocks the jug of water… and somewhere among Brendan's haze of ecstasy he hears the thing smash against the floor.

Steven comes with a high, loud, coarse cry of blissfulness… his seed spilling heavily across his stomach and Brendan's clothes. He continues fucking himself against Brendan's cock with the same relentless lustfulness until Brendan comes too, a few seconds later, losing himself powerfully inside Steven's heat.

They fall against the bed, panting heavily, and the walls spin – no doubt for each of them.

"That'll teach ye." Brendan manages to mutter exhaustedly, before pulling Steven under his arm and holding him there – _his. _Always his.

He never captured the image of Steven's ecstasy as he came… but it's a picture Brendan will get to see live every single day for the rest of his life if he has his way.


End file.
